


warm and alive (i'm all over you)

by gaydeviants



Series: hankcon came through here [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Cancer, Established Relationship, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of the afterlife, Supernatural Elements, Terminal Illness, although not actually mentioned, angst but with an open ended ending thats actually happy not to spoil my main fic but, but not?, but theres also some sex so, discussions of future character death, discussions of past character death, hanks immortal its a long story, might not make a lot of sense if u havent read the main fic, part of a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 06:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20059717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaydeviants/pseuds/gaydeviants
Summary: "Hank?""Hmm?""What's it like to die?"





	warm and alive (i'm all over you)

**Author's Note:**

> heeehooo posting this in celebration of my 1 yr twitjer anniversary! this one probably won't make much sense without reading the main fic, but theres also some tender sexy stuff so theres that! oh title is from smother me by the used cause thats a hankcon song if i ever heard one. is this lowkey Dramatique? possibly. emo? oh yeah. but in keeping w the dee Brand, no unhappy endings :)

"Hank?" 

"Hmm?" 

"What's it like to die?" 

Hank had been drifting in and out of a light doze, warm and sated after Connor rode his dick several hours earlier. Afterwards, they’d lounged in bed as the evening turned to night, the room lit only by a dim lamp in the corner. Things had felt peaceful. The question makes his eyes snap open, though, and that peace is quickly shattered. Perhaps it was never really there to begin with.

"I… Connor, what?" Hank sputters, tightening his grip on him. Connor's hand clenches where it rests on Hank's chest. 

"I just… I can't stop thinking about it. Will it hurt?" 

Hank presses his lips together, a very different kind of pain that what Connor's talking about hitting him hard. It hurts to think of Connor ruminating on this by himself, just like it hurts to think of Connor dying. 

"Ahh, fuck, baby…" he mutters awkwardly, unsure how to proceed. Connor's silent, but Hank can feel the tension in his body, strung tight. Hank's never been good with words, and he's terrified now that he'll say something wrong. 

He sighs, tracing his fingertips down Connor's spine, trying to gather his thoughts. Connor is silent as he waits for an answer; Hank can barely even hear him breathing. 

"No," Hank finally murmurs. "It doesn't hurt. I mean, a couple times it hurt right _ before _I died, but that was because…" 

"Because you got your skull caved in with a hammer," Connor finishes for him dryly, clearly trying to make light of it. Hank thinks his shitty sense of humor might be rubbing off on him a little. He snorts, nodding and kissing the top of his head.

"Yeah. That didn't feel too great. But the actual… dying part…" he hesitates to say it's peaceful, he doesn't want Connor to think he's fixating on that. But Connor's looking for comfort, so he forges on. 

"It's… okay. As morbid as that sounds."

He tries to think back to his first death, about how content he felt, totally unconcerned with anything anymore. Some of that could probably be contributed to the sleeping pills and alcohol he downed beforehand, though. Along with his general disinterest in life as a whole. 

Connor nuzzles his face into Hank's neck, brushing his nose against the warm space between his throat and clavicle. Hank sighs, running a hand up Connor's spine and tangling his fingers into the short hair at his nape. 

"I can't really say how it'll be for you, sweetheart," he whispers, trying his best to keep his voice steady. 

"I know," Connor breathes, and Hank feels wetness against his skin as tears leak from Connor's eyes. "I just…" 

Hank pulls him even closer, gripping his hip with his free hand. "Shh, baby, I'm here…" 

He's at a loss for what to say, rubbing his thumb gently back and forth over Connor's sharp hip bone, trying to comfort him without words. 

Connor heaves a shuddering sigh into Hank's neck, his body trembling in an effort to keep it together. They don't talk about Connor's mortality that often, and now Hank realizes maybe that wasn't the right thing to do. 

"What do you need, sweetheart?" Hank murmurs, feeling helpless. "I love you so much, how can I help?" 

Connor's quiet for a moment and Hank rubs his back slowly, letting him think. 

"Can you tell me about it?” Connor’s voice sounds so small, full of uncertainty. It breaks Hank’s heart. “The first time you died?" 

"Of course," Hank answers without hesitation. Anything for Connor. He takes a deep breath and dives right into it. 

"It was almost like going to sleep," Hank starts, staring up at the ceiling, thinking back. "And when I woke up, I was in a wheat field…" 

* * *

Connor has calmed down significantly by the time Hank's finished talking. He's got his fingers laced through Hank's, and his tears have dried. Hank told him everything he could remember, even the stuff that he's certain will have no relevance to Connor's experience. He imagines it will be a much more straightforward process for his partner. 

"Thank you for sharing that with me," Connor whispers. "I know it must be difficult to talk about."

"It's not so bad anymore, baby," Hank tells him, cupping his face with a large palm. "And you got me through it. Just like I'm gonna do for you." 

Connor nuzzles his face into Hank's palm, exhaling softly. "I won't be back, though."

The words make Hank's chest feel tight, and it takes him a moment before he can reply. 

"I know," he murmurs, tracing his thumb over Connor's cheekbone. "I'm gonna be with you, though. I'm gonna do everything I can to make sure it's…" Hank hesitates, turning a few words over in his mind. 

_ Simple. _

_ Easy. _

_ Good. _

_ Painless. _

Connor seems to understand what Hank can't articulate, giving his hand an appreciative squeeze. "Thank you," he whispers, bumping his forehead lightly against Hank's shoulder. "I'd like to be at home, if that's at all possible." 

Hank can't speak past the lump in his throat, but Connor doesn't seem to expect a response. "I know that might not be an option, it's usually not pretty towards the end. But… I don’t want to die in a hospital." 

Hank rolls onto his side so they’re facing each other, sharing one pillow, linking both of his hands with both of Connor's in the space between them. He can't hold back the tears anymore, and he doesn't try. Connor makes a distressed noise, but Hank quickly shakes his head. 

"Don't, it's okay," he rumbles comfortingly, squeezing Connor's hands. His voice trembles slightly, but he presses on. "We needa talk about it, and it's not gonna get any easier. This is… just how it's gonna have to be." 

Connor blinks, and Hank can just make out a tear trailing lazily down his cheek in the dim light. "You're right," he replies, his voice tight. "We don't… _ I _ don't have much time left." 

Hank squeezes his eyes shut, but the pain doesn’t ease. He doesn’t want to grieve Connor before he’s even gone, but that seems impossible. He can’t control it anymore than he can control Connor’s illness. So instead he tries to focus on something they _ can _ control.

“We’ll do what we have to do,” Hank promises quietly, pressing their foreheads together. “If you wanna be home, then we’ll make that happen.”

Connor whimpers, releasing one of Hank’s hands and cupping his jaw, pulling him in for an achingly tender kiss. Their tears mingle, saltwater on their tongues, but they don’t pull away, clinging to each other in desperation.

Connor hooks a leg over Hank's hip, and Hank slides one of his thighs between Connor's own. But he doesn't press up against him, not wanting to devolve into something physical before they've finished their conversation. He knows there's more they need to talk about. Connor seems to be on the same wavelength because the kisses don't go any deeper. He doesn't start rutting against Hank's thigh like he usually would. 

Connor sucks at Hank's bottom lip, worrying it gently with his teeth before pulling back, sighing into Hank’s mouth. He presses his forehead against Hank’s, sharing breath while they both try to get a grip.

“Hank.” Connor’s soft voice finally breaks the silence, as he curls a hand into Hank’s messy hair. “I’ve been… thinking about what I would like you to do… after I’m gone. With me, I mean.”

Hank shudders, pulling Connor flush against his chest, tangling their legs together until there is no space left between them.

“What, uh…” he pauses as his voice breaks, inhaling deeply before trying again. “What do you want?”

Connor twirls a strand of Hank’s hair around his finger, chewing on his lip. “I wrote it all down. It’s in an envelope in my desk. It’ll be easier that way.” Hank leans into Connor’s space, kissing the tip of his nose.

“If you wanna talk about it, you can,” he tells him earnestly, not wanting Connor to hold anything back in fear of upsetting him. 

Connor smiles sadly. “I’d rather not, honestly. I’m leaving most of it up to you, really. Not that you’ll have to… _ make decisions, _ just… whatever is easiest. I don’t care about much of it. But I want to be able to be with you _ and _ Niles. That’s the only thing that’s important to me.”

Hank nods, cupping Connor’s face, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “I understand.”

Connor nuzzles his face into Hank’s large hand, kissing the center of his palm. “I’ve… I’ve left an envelope with Kara, too. Just in case… it’s too much for you alone.”

Tears well in Hank’s eyes anew, as he’s once again amazed by how thoughtful his partner is. “Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, giving him a soft kiss.

Connor whines into his mouth, but Hank pulls back after just a moment, pressing kisses to Connor’s face instead. Across his cheeks, on top of his eyelids, along his jaw.

“You’re so fuckin’ precious,” he murmurs between kisses, and Connor exhales a shuddering breath. “Please, baby, I don’t want you to worry about it, I’ll take care of everything. Whatever you want.” He nips Connor’s jaw gently before rolling onto his back, pulling the smaller man along with him, sprawling him out across his chest. Connor throws an arm over his torso, rubbing his face against Hank’s coarse chest hair like a cat.

“Thank you, Hank,” he whispers. Hank squeezes him in response. “Will you… will you be okay? You won’t do anything stupid after I’m gone, will you?”

Hank laughs brokenly, kissing the top of Connor's head. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't, honey. You know that." 

Connor clings to Hank, mumbling into his chest. "You could if you _ really _ wanted to." 

Hank sighs, tracing his fingers up and down Connor's spine. "The thought… has crossed my mind a few times," he admits with great reluctance. The only thing stopping _ him _ from dying and following after Connor is the fact that Elijah Kamski is still alive. He’s a cop, he’s got connections. Connor's right. And in his darker moments, Hank contemplated it. It wouldn’t be impossible to pay someone to take out Kamski. But… the thought of how much it would upset Connor stopped him from thinking too hard each time. 

"I won't, though, baby," Hank murmurs into his hair. "I promise. Someone's gotta take care of Sumo, after all." It’s a weak attempt at humor, but it somehow manages to lighten the mood a little bit. Hank’s gotten better about using not humor to deflect from more serious emotions, but he can’t _ always _avoid it.

That gets a faint huff of amusement from Connor, so he figures it’s an acceptable response. The younger man runs a hand over Hank's chest, his touch light and exploratory. Connor's mapped out every inch of Hank's body multiple times, but he still seems fascinated by it. Like he finds something new every time. 

"I have it on good authority that Kara and Alice are prepared to move in here with you at a moments notice," Connor confides, and Hank can feel him pressing a smile into his chest when he huffs indignantly. 

"I don't think so," Hank mutters, reluctantly smiling despite himself. Because that's the thing. Connor's spent the last few months carefully building a web, ensnaring people into his life, and therefore into Hank's as well. Connor is so sweet, but he’s so much more complicated than that. He’s ruthless when he needs to be, and will do whatever it takes to accomplish something once he’s set his mind to it. He can be very manipulative if the situation calls for it. And yet, it's a selfless kind of manipulation. It’s never for his own needs, never for his own _ personal _ wellbeing. He's done nothing but improve every life he touches. 

Connor formed fast friendships with many of their neighbors, and in turn, Hank has gotten to know the people in their building better than he ever imagined. He… _ cares _about them now, and he wants to be pissed at Connor for that. But he could never. Because now, he's got other things in his life. Good things. Nothing as good as Connor, of course, but things that give his life a little bit of meaning. People who would be affected by his absence. 

It's almost scary how efficient Connor was at building Hank this support system, how effortless he made it seem. Connor will never admit to doing it, and Hank will never call him on it. But he knows, and it just makes him fall even more in love.

"I told her as much," Connor murmurs. "But Hank, please… if things get too difficult, don't struggle alone. I love you so much, I can't stand to think of you suffering…" 

"Baby," Hank whispers into Connor's hair, "please, don't worry about me." Connor makes a noise of disbelief and Hank snorts. "Yeah, okay, fair," he concedes. "But listen. Since you came into my life, I've been happier than I have in years. After everything with Cole… I never thought I'd be happy again. But… you…"

Hank wishes he was better at expressing himself, that he could just _ tell _ Connor how he's helped him heal, about how he knows that things will always get better. It seems so simple, and yet the words won't come. They sit heavy on his tongue, so close and yet so far. He holds onto Connor tightly instead, trying to put everything he can’t seem to say into his actions.

“I love you,” he breathes into Connor’s hair, voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know… I don’t know what happens to people who stay dead. Amanda said they pass through one of her doors and they don’t come back. I don’t know if there’s anything on the other side. But I just… I wanna be able to go through the same door as you. When it’s my time. And I gotta do good if that’s gonna happen.”

Connor stifles a sob against Hank’s chest, a hand clenching over his heart. “You think… I’ll go through a good door?” he whispers, voice laced with uncertainty.

“Absolutely,” Hank growls without hesitation, tilting Connor’s face up, squinting to see him in the dim room. “Listen to me, honey. You have nothing to worry about.” He traces his thumb along the curve of Connor’s jaw, a familiar path he’s traveled countless times. “I don’t know what’s beyond those doors, but I know that yours will be good.”

He feels dampness against his hand, and he knows Connor is crying again. But Connor gives him a trembling smile, closing his eyes, exhaling in relief. “Thank you, darling,” he whispers, nuzzling his face into Hank’s palm. “It’s silly, I guess, but lately I’ve been thinking about… all the things I’ve done wrong. I never even _ believed _in any of this before everything that’s happened to us. But now, I guess… I’ve been scared. ”

“Baby, there’s nobody better than you,” Hank says fiercely, determined to ease some of Connor’s worries. He might be a little biased, but even as he tries to look at it objectively, he can find very little fault. Connor is so gentle and caring. He knows there’s _ no way _ Connor has to worry about going to hell, or whatever the equivalent of that is in Amanda’s kingdom. 

“You _ have _ to say that, though,” Connor mutters, just a hint of petulance in his voice. “You’re my boyfriend.”

“Anybody would agree with me, though,” Hank insists, brushing Connor’s short hair from his eyes. “I mean it.”

Connor shuffles around until he’s completely on top of Hank, pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. “Thank you,” he whispers again, breathing out a shaky sigh.

Hank hums, parting his legs, letting Connor rest between them. Connor settles comfortably into the cradle of his hips, while Hank does his best to ignore the fact that they’re both still naked from their earlier encounter. Connor fits his head perfectly into the space beneath Hank’s chin, exhaling and relaxing against him. His warm breath ghosts across Hank’s neck, making him shiver as he pets Connor’s back.

“You okay?” he murmurs, resting a hand at the base of his spine. 

Connor goes pliant against him, simply murmuring a quiet, “Mmm,” at Hank’s touch. 

“If you needa talk more, we can, sweetheart,” Hank assures him, trailing the fingers of his other hand slowly up and down Connor’s ribs.

Connor lets out a soft, “Aaah,” sound at that, nearly purring at the gentle touch. "I think we've done enough talking for tonight," Connor breathes, and Hank responds instantly to his tone, his cock stirring with interest despite the lingering sadness. He's got some very strong associations with that particular timbre. 

"Shit, baby, you sure?" he murmurs, rubbing his back. Connor presses into his touch, whining out an affirmative, slowly grinding against him. 

"Please," he whispers. "Make love to me." Hank groans, sliding his hand lower, resting it on Connor's perfect ass. 

"How do you want it?" he breathes, giving him a firm squeeze. Connor whimpers, and Hank can feel him getting hard against his hip. 

"I… aaaah-!" Connor cuts off with a gasp as Hank slides a finger between his cheeks, teasing at his hole. He's still loose from earlier, making Hank groan, catching his rim with a fingertip.

"Ohhhh…" Connor moans, burying his face in Hank's chest. "Fuck, fuck…" Hank pauses for a moment, stretching to reach their bedside table, where the bottle of lube still lays, carelessly tossed after their romp a few hours prior. Connor whines at the absence, but Hank is quick, slicking up his fingers and getting back to him without delay. 

"Like that, baby?" he murmurs, easily sliding a finger into him. Connor cries out, mouthing at Hank's chest as Hank slowly massages the walls of his passage, wanting to make sure he's properly prepped. Connor nods eagerly, rolling his hips against Hank's, grinding their erections together. 

Hank groans, working a second finger into him, scissoring them to open him up. Connor blooms for him, easily taking two fingers, whining for a third. He starts sucking at Hank's nipples with great enthusiasm, and Hank grunts, losing his rhythm as a hot burst of arousal shoots through him, straight to his cock. 

"Jesus, baby, that mouth…" he groans as Connor's clever tongue laps at one pebbled bud. He nips gently, a playful reprimand for Hank's inaction. Hank gasps in surprise, smacking Connor's ass with his free hand before sliding a third finger inside of him. 

"Oh, fuck," Connor moans, rolling his hips, trying to take Hank in deeper. 

"Keep suckin' my nipples, baby," Hank coaxes, teasingly prodding at Connor's sweet spot. Connor obeys instantly, sucking and tonguing all over Hank's chest, and Hank rewards him thoroughly, massaging his prostate until Connor’s nearly incoherent. Connor whines and pants, rutting against Hank's thigh. He grows sloppy and uncoordinated with his mouth, drooling as he laps lazily at Hank's nipples. 

"That's my boy," Hank murmurs, his deep voice vibrating in his chest, making Connor shudder. "Fuckin' perfect." 

His fingers slide easily in and out of Connor, and he relishes the warm heat around him, the slick, obscene sounds mingling with Connor's breathy moans in the most arousing symphony he’s ever heard. 

"Incredible," Hank whispers into Connor's hair. "Listen to that. You're so loose for me. Bet I could slide right in there." 

Connor whines, sucking particularly hard at Hank's chest, swirling his tongue around a nipple. "Please." 

Hank hums, hot sparks of arousal shooting steadily through him, even as he works to unravel Connor. "I’ll give you anything you want.” 

Connor shudders, sliding off of Hank with great reluctance, rolling over onto his side. His back faces Hank, and he looks over his shoulder, making eye contact as he grabs his own ass, spreading himself open, the picture of temptation.

"Fuck," Hank breathes, rolling over onto his side as well, spooning him from behind. One of his arms slides under Connor's head, pillowing it on his bicep, while the other drapes across his torso. He tweaks one of Connor's nipples, making him moan and wriggle against him. Then he grabs Connor’s hip and holds him steady while he carefully lines himself up. Connor grows impatient, pushing back and impaling himself on Hank's cock as soon as the head nudges against his hole. 

They both moan, and Hank's hand leaves Connor's hip to link their fingers together. Connor squeezes his hand and takes him completely inside, shuddering as his ass presses back against Hank's hips. He's warm and tight despite all the prep and their earlier lovemaking, clenching around Hank and making him groan. 

"Shit," Hank grunts, giving a slow thrust, gentle and shallow. Connor whimpers, and Hank growls, pressing his lips to Connor's neck. "God, you feel so fuckin' good," he murmurs, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses across Connor's pale skin. He lets go of Connor's hand, sliding his palm down over his flat stomach, wrapping his fingers around his erection. Connor gasps, bucking into his grip, reverently exhaling Hank's name. 

"That's it," Hank purrs, giving Connor a few slow tugs, pausing to drag his thumb over the head of his cock, collecting the moisture beading there. "You take me so good, sweetheart."

Connor moans, loud and needy when Hank releases his dick and brings his hand to his own lips, licking precome off the pad of his thumb. Connor's taste ignites something within him, and he cups Connor's jaw, pulling him in for a filthy kiss. Connor's tongue is in his mouth within seconds, searching desperately for his own taste. Hank growls, low and desperate in his throat, thrusting into Connor as they kiss. He’s gentle even as need threatens to consume both of them.

Connor nips at Hank’s bottom lip before running a hand down his own side, grabbing his leg and lifting it up into the air, allowing Hank to sink into him even deeper. Hank growls again, rocking his hips, sliding in and out of his partner with practiced ease.

“So. Good,” Hank pants against Connor’s lips, still in awe of how perfectly Connor opens up for him, taking his almost intimidating length like he was _ made _ for it. Connor rolls his hips languidly, meeting Hank in the middle, tiny, breathy noises spilling from his lips with each thrust.

“Hank…” he moans, his head falling back to rest against Hank’s shoulder, panting hot puffs of air against his neck. Hank’s hand returns to Connor’s dick, stroking him in time with his thrusts, pulling him closer and closer towards release.

“I love you,” Hank whispers, nipping gently at Connor’s ear, tracing the shell of it with his tongue. Connor chokes on a sob, whimpering, unable to form a coherent response. Hank doesn’t mind, in fact, he loves leaving Connor speechless. Being able to reduce Connor to a trembling, panting mess is one of the best feelings in the world.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Hank coos. “Look at you, takin’ my cock like a champ…” They rock together slowly, the bed frame creaking with their movement, while Hank works Connor’s cock. 

“Ahhh… Ahhh…” Connor gasps, and Hank can feel him tensing as he nears his finish. It makes something hot and primal coil inside his gut, pulling him closer to his own end.

“Hank, fuck me…” Connor _ whines, _and Hank’s gentle, languid pace is suddenly gone, replaced with something more frantic. Rougher. And yet still so tender.

Connor wails as Hank hits that spot inside of him perfectly, throwing his head back while Hank continues to stroke him, faster than before. The friction is delicious, making Hank’s eyes roll back in pleasure while he pounds into Connor.

“That’s it, baby boy,” he grunts, feeling Connor clench around him. Just a little more and he’ll tip right over the edge… Each thrust pulls a quiet yelp from Connor, and the sounds go straight to Hank’s cock. “Come on, honey,” Hank coaxes, twisting his wrist with each upward stroke, exactly how Connor likes it. “Come for me. You can do it.”

“Fuck, Hank-!” Connor cries out, his back arching as he reaches his peak, coming with a shuddering sigh.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” Hank gasps, stroking him through his climax, slamming his hips forward once more and spilling deep into him. He growls, biting down on Connor’s shoulder, grinding into him as he fills him up. Connor clenches around him, milking him greedily. “That’s it…” Hank breathes again, still working Connor’s oversensitive cock. Connor exhales shaky, pleasured sighs, and Hank only stops when they turn to whimpers instead.

“Good boy,” Hank murmurs, wiping his hand on the sheets, peppering gentle kisses over Connor’s neck. The curve of his belly fits perfectly into the dip of Connor’s spine, pressing against him as they catch their breath. Connor weakly releases his grip on his own leg, lowering with little grace. Hank’s lips move down Connor’s neck to his shoulder, mouthing apologetically at the bite mark he left behind in the throes of his own orgasm. “You okay?”

"Perfect," Connor breathes, his chest heaving from exertion. Hank cleans Connor off and then runs a hand gently up and down his torso, soothing and familiar. "I love you so much, Hank." 

Hank's heart swells, and his hand makes its way up Connor's chest, past his neck to cup his jaw, angling his head so they can kiss. Their lips slide together languidly, loud in the otherwise silent house. Their tongues brush, and they exchange soft nips to each others' mouths. Connor's bottom lip is plush, swollen even more from Hank's teeth. 

"I love you, too, Con," Hank whispers when they part, unable to resist pecking more kisses to his lips between his words. Soft exhalations of devotion pass between them, promises of forever that they think they can't truly keep. 

But for now, in the quiet dark of their bedroom, it's enough to forget about what the future holds, if only for a moment. 

**Author's Note:**

> only guess what!!!! they DO get FOREVER!!!!! and of course connor doesnt actually die and they live happily ever after!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! connors death instructions stay forgotten in a drawer of his desk and they never have to think abt it again!!! also he has a desk! but its only mentioned in another fic that i havent published yet WOOPS  
please come hang out with me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants)


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